


Rulebreaker

by stratumgermanitivum



Series: The Rules [2]
Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Abduction, Abusive Relationships, Assault, But Nigel is a jerk, Canon Autistic Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Controlling!Nigel, EatTheRare, Freeform, Homophobic Language, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Nigel's (and the author's) terrible language, Possessive Behavior, Protective!Nigel, Spacedogs, abuse of the AO3 tagging system, because I don't respect the rules of writing, because the author is a jerk too, it's fun in fiction, maybe if I write more of this, meltdowns, mentions of drug use, seriously don't date people like Nigel in real life, technically, tiny hint of D/s if you tilt your head sideways and squint really hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 21:57:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15422457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum
Summary: There were Rules. There had always been Rules, since Adam was very little. The Rules were what kept Adam functioning. Now that he was with Nigel, there were different Rules, but they were no less important.Today, Adam had broken three of the Rules, and that was how he found himself pressed against an alleyway with a stranger's gun to his head.





	Rulebreaker

**Author's Note:**

> Ooooh god here we go. This is my first foray into SpaceDogs, and it is Unbeta'd and written in stream-of-consciousness style prose, because that's apparently how I role today.

Nigel is going to be very, very angry with him.

There are rules. There have always been rules, since Adam was very, very small. He likes rules. Rules and boundaries keep life going the way it’s meant to. They keep Adam functioning, keep him moving. Adam likes clear, distinct rules and consequences. Nigel likes them, too, because they mean he always knows where Adam is.

Adam is not stupid. He has been described before as ‘a little naive,’ but he is not stupid. He knows that many people might be uncomfortable if they knew that Nigel always wants to know where Adam is, what he’s doing. It might be considered a little obsessive.

Adam doesn’t care. Life with Nigel is simple, easy to observe and track. Nigel can be brash and unpredictable, but he does his best to keep rules and patterns in place so that Adam’s life isn’t so stressful, so that Adam can survive on a daily basis without a meltdown.

Nigel doesn’t like Adam’s meltdowns. They led to one of the rules: Nobody is allowed to hurt Adam. _Including_ Adam.

There have always been rules, but before they were Mom and Dad’s Rules. Then just Dad’s Rules. Then Adam’s Rules. And then Nigel came along, and now they have Their Rules together. But if one of Adam’s rules is broken, it is stressful and upsetting, but manageable. If one of Nigel’s Rules is broken, it’s trouble.

Adam is going to be in trouble.

One of the Big Rules, the first one that Nigel set when they started dating, officially, was that Adam never go out without him. It’s a sensible rule, really. Adam doesn’t speak Romanian, not a single word, and Nigel has a lot of enemies. The rule itself came to be because Adam got mugged, bruised up and bloody. It made sense that Nigel would be upset. Besides, Nigel has promised that once Adam understands the language a little better, he will be a little more lenient about where Adam can go. It’s just that there never seems to be any time to teach Adam.

But today, Nigel had broken one of _Adam’s_ rules.

Today is Thursday. Specifically, it is the second Thursday of the month. And on the second Thursday of the month, Adam and Nigel go grocery shopping.

That it was the second Thursday of the month was coincidence. That was the first day Adam went grocery shopping when he arrived in Romania for his new job, and from then on, that was the day he had to go. He bought enough food for the month, and when it started to run out, he went again.

But Nigel was busy today. Busy with Darko at the club, with it’s loud noises and naked women. Adam liked the women, they were beautiful and they were nice to him. They called him things like ‘sweetie’ and ‘angel’, and while Adam didn’t usually like nicknames from anyone but Nigel (who would probably not be stopped even if Adam tried), he did like that he’d found a place where people were nice to him. Even if it _was_ just because Nigel and Darko were their bosses. He didn’t think it was.

So Adam liked the women, but he did not like the noise, and he did not like the crowds, and he did not like the way Nigel would get all red faced and loud, downing drink after drink. Adam didn’t go to the club at all, if he could help it, and so when an emergency came up, Nigel had gone on his own, with the promise that he would be back soon and they would go grocery shopping.

He was not back soon.

The most important thing about the rules is that they only work if everyone follows them. If Nigel didn’t come back when he said he would, then they couldn’t go grocery shopping on the second Thursday of the month. And Adam had enough food to last him a few more days, but if they didn’t go on the second Thursday of the month, they would have to go Friday. And they couldn’t go Friday, because Friday was the day they did the laundry and cleaned up the apartment, and then they always went on a date Friday night. And they couldn’t go Saturday because they had sex on Saturday mornings (Technically, they had sex whenever one of them wanted to have sex, but Saturday mornings were specifically set aside to be lazy mornings in bed) and then Nigel would have to go to the club to handle ‘business’ even though he’d already done that on grocery day, and Adam would have to go too, because Nigel would ask him to spend time with him, and then they would run out of food.

At that point in his thoughts, Adam had become so frustrated and upset that he’d thrown the glass he was holding to shatter against the wall, which was another one of Nigel’s rules broken, and if Nigel was already going to be upset there was no point in worrying, and Adam couldn’t look at the broken glass without wanting to break another and another and another and start screaming.

So instead of doing any of that, he’d grabbed his coat and walked to the grocery store by himself. Adam did not speak Romanian, but he’d lived in Bucharest for two months before meeting Nigel. He knew how to go grocery shopping, how to count out the lei and make sure he was given the right change. He didn’t need help for this, and if Nigel wanted Adam to stay inside and wait for him, maybe he should have _come home when he said he would._

Adam did not drive. Before Nigel, he’d walked to and from work, to and from the store. Now, he lived further than he had before, and Nigel drove him everywhere, but Nigel was not home to drive him, so he had to walk again. He’d walked further than this back in New York, back with Beth, but New York’s gangs had never had a reason to notice Adam.

Which brings Adam’s thoughts back full circle to now, pressed against a wall in an alleyway with a gun to his forehead, thinking about how much trouble he’s going to be in when Nigel finds out he’d gone out without him, without the _gun_ Nigel had given him (That Adam was never going to carry, no matter what Nigel said), and then been abducted by a rival gang.

There’s two of them, both with the skittish, jumpy look of withdrawal that Adam is learning to recognize, both with guns trained on his skull. They’re yelling at him, clearly expecting him to say something, but the problem is, they are yelling in _Romanian_.

“Nu vorbesc limba română,” Adam tells them, the only Romanian Nigel has so far bothered to teach him, the only phrase he usually needs among Nigel’s people.

“You the faggot fucking their boss?” One of the men translates.

“No,” Adam says, because he is the _bisexual_ fucking the boss, and he really wishes people would stop being so confused about that.

This, apparently, is not the correct answer, because one of the men punches him in the face. His head smacks back and hits brick and Adam goes down down down into darkness.

_____  
Contrary to popular belief, Nigel is well aware that he is not the healthiest of romantic partners. He doesn’t labor under any delusions that the way he treats Adam is in any way normal or idealistic. He knows very well what people would think of their relationship. ‘Controlling.’ ‘Possessive.’ ‘Abusive,’ maybe, if they were feeling brave and Nigel was not around to hear them say it. It’s not that Nigel doesn’t know, or thinks he’s some sort of romantic hero. It’s just that he doesn’t give a fuck. Nigel needs to protect the things he loves, keep them safe, and as far as he’s concerned, the fact that Adam flourishes so fucking beautifully with strict rules and routines is just icing on the fucking cake.

They really are made for each other. Nigel needs to be allowed to seek control, Adam needs to know exactly what is expected of him. They fit like puzzle pieces, and Nigel wouldn’t give that up for anything, no matter what other people might think.

But he’s not fucking stupid. Nigel knows what he needs from Adam, but he also knows what Adam needs from _him_ , and Adam can have anything his quirky little mind desires, if it means he’ll let Nigel keep him safe. So Nigel follows the Rules (With a capital fucking ‘R’, written out on a piece of paper and everything. Adam had fucking _laminated_ it), does his best to keep to Adam’s routines, and knows every little bit of what makes his lover tick.

Which is why he knows Adam will be very upset with him when he finally makes his way home. He’d meant to be back earlier, with enough time to go pick up groceries because god fucking forbid they do it any other day, but Darko had new information on some of the territory disputes they’d been dealing with, and Nigel couldn’t put that off, not with some of the men starting to get antsy. They tolerate Adam, some even like him (Darko certainly does, as much as he’d deny it, he likes anyone who can wrap Nigel so thoroughly around their little finger), but they get fussy if Nigel puts off work to cater to his boy. Nigel doesn’t have the patience to deal with fussy underlings, and as much as he’d like to, he can’t shoot everyone who irritates him and still have enough men to run the country’s underbelly. So now he was late, incredibly late, far too late to still take Adam to the store. He’d hoped to head off a potential meltdown by stopping at the store himself, certain that Adam would appreciate not having to face the crowds of people he couldn’t understand. He’d even brought chocolate. Adam was not the type to be wooed by flowers, he didn’t quite see the point of them, but he loved chocolate.

Of course, there has already been a meltdown by the time Nigel unlocks their apartment. He finds shards of glass in the kitchen, another piece of their dining set a casualty of Adam’s overwhelming anxiety. He usually cleaned up after he calmed down, though, which meant he must still be upset. Nigel sighs and heads for the hallway.

“Adam? Baby, I’m home.” No answer. Nigel tenses. Adam’s meltdowns were not quiet, they were loud. He yelled, he threw things, he said things he didn’t mean. If he’s quiet, then Nigel has missed the yelling and they’ve tipped right over into the catatonic anxiety that sometimes overwhelmed his boy.

“I know you’re upset, darling, but I need you to come talk to me.”

Adam isn’t in their room. Hadn’t been even during the worst of his anger, it seemed, since everything is still painstakingly put away. Nigel didn’t really see the point in making the bed if they were just going to fuck and mess up the sheets again anyway, but Adam needed everything exactly where it was supposed to be to function.

No Adam in the guest bedroom either, not that Nigel expected him to be there, nor the bathroom. A niggling bit of worry latches on to the back of Nigel’s mind, overwhelmed by irritation. Adam knew better than to go out alone, but he could be so fucking _stubborn._ Back in the kitchen, Nigel checks the fridge and finds a note.

_Nigel-_

_It’s grocery day. You didn’t come home. I went to get groceries._

_-Adam._

Which was all well and fucking good except Nigel had just _been_ at the grocery store, and there had been no Adam there. Nigel glances out the window at the dark city. The store would be closed now, which meant the note was old. That little nip of worry makes itself known again. Nigel heads back towards the bedroom and yanks open the closet. There’s Adam’s gun, beautifully engraved and meticulously cleaned and polished, and never once fired, sitting on the shelf where Adam keeps it. Because of course it is. Because Adam could never satisfy himself with breaking just one of their rules, oh no, it’s always ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’ with Adam.

Nigel’s phone buzzes away in his pocket. Nigel had multiple phones, as it so happened, and rotated them out frequently, going through burner phones like most men went through socks, but this one was the business phone, Nigel could count on one hand the people who had this number.

“This better be fucking important,” Nigel hisses. Darko doesn’t laugh, or groan, or make any kind of noise that might have have eased Nigel’s anger. Instead, his voice is dreadfully calm when he speaks.

“Check your messages. We got a note for you here at the club, I forwarded it to you. Check your messages and then get your ass outside, I’m waiting for you.”

Nigel fumbles with the phone. Adam is the techno geek, not him, but he somehow manages to bring up his messages without hanging up.

It’s a picture of a picture, because whoever is out to piss Nigel off today is also the kind of trash that still takes Polaroids, with the white boarder and everything.

Adam doesn’t look scared. Adam usually doesn’t look much of anything, emotionally, because he finds it so difficult, but in the picture his eyes have that especially blank look they get when he’s completely losing it, hands over his ears and screaming. Except his hands aren’t over his ears, because he’s sitting on the floor, wrists and ankles attached to a radiator with zip ties, duct tape over his mouth, and only even looking in the direction of the camera because some pig has stepped up behind him and forced him to with a grip on his chin so tight that Nigel can already picture the bruises it will leave, matching the dark bruise forming around his eye.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Darko is saying, but Nigel isn’t listening. He’s already hanging up the phone and headed for the door, with murder on his mind.

\-----  
Adam is hungry.

This is, probably, not the most important thing to worry about right now, but it’s the easiest. Adam has always struggled with a hyper-focus that often borders on inappropriate, and right now, with the skin of his wrists rubbed raw and bleeding, with pressure building in his bladder and an ache in his knees from being unable to stretch out properly, it is much easier to think about being hungry. Much easier to think about than the hiss of threats they’d whispered in his ear when he’d managed to kick one of the men in the face, before they secured his ankles as well.

Because he didn’t make it to the store, and now he’s missed dinner, and Nigel must be home by now and is going to be so very angry. Mostly, he will be angry at the men who pace outside the door, but Adam knows at least a little bit of that anger will be reserved for him, for not listening to the small handful of things Nigel asks him to do, because Adam has already had that lecture many times before. Nigel is going to be angry and Adam is hungry and he missed dinner and he didn’t buy groceries and all of his thoughts are going in a circle, looping and looping and looping because otherwise he will have to think about how badly his wrists hurt and how something in his ankle had popped painfully when the man had jerked it against the radiator to secure it and he feels trapped and the other man had touched his face to take his picture and he can still feel fingerprints on his skin it feels like sandpaper on and on and on.

Adam screamed, muffled behind the cloth in his mouth and the thick tape securing it in place, and then smacked his head against the radiator, just to try and make the noise _stop_.

“Hey! Găozar!” Adam doesn’t know the meaning but he recognizes the word, has heard it slung around the club, because Nigel’s men bond over insults in a way that Adam will never quite understand. He knows it means him, right now, because the men don’t know his name, only his status in relation to Nigel. Adam ignores him and smacks his face against the radiator again, because there isn’t enough movement left available to stim his hands the way Nigel prefers. Nigel will just have to _deal_ because everything is so _loud_.

“Hey!” The man shouts again, and places two large hands on Adam’s face, yanking it back painfully. Adam squirms against the grip, unable to move back to the radiator, or away from hands too much on his skin, everything is too much on his skin.  
“We don’t get the money or the drugs if you knock your brains out of your skull,” The man hisses, voice sharp in Adam’s head. Adam doesn’t care what they get, he cares that they are touching him and everything _hurts_.

He knows he’s shouting, shouting things like ‘ _I hate you’_ and _‘Don’t touch me’_ and even some words he’s picked up from loving Nigel, but none of it makes its way past the gag, and the man does not let go, fisting his hands in Adam’s curls and keeping his head back until Adam’s neck strains with the effort.

And then the door slams open and everything is gunshots and too much noise noise noise.

\-----  
It’s not a rival gang, not the entirety of one, anyway. Just two idiots low on the totem pole, two junkies looking for a quick fix, who weren’t even looking for Adam, who just got incredibly lucky and stumbled across him by _accident_. It’s all just a nice big fucking coincidence, and somehow, that makes Nigel even angrier. It’s more of an _insult_ than if this had been some sort of plot to take down the empire Nigel and Darko have built. No, just two trigger happy cunts who recognized Adam and saw him as a chance to weasel some free drugs out of Nigel.

Their bosses won’t even be mad at Nigel for killing them, that’s how fucking embarrassing this is. They’ll wipe their hands of these two just to save face and keep Nigel from climbing up the ladder seeking revenge. It means Nigel can do whatever he wants to these two, but he’s really feeling more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kind of guy tonight. He’s barely got the door open before he’s shooting. The man across the room is lucky, he gets a bullet to the head before Nigel has to worry about him drawing a weapon.

The junkie with his hands on Adam, however, has his hands too full to reach for a gun, and Nigel feels more comfortable taking his time with him.

Nigel isn’t entirely sure what he slurs at the man, too distracted by the trickle of blood working its way into Adam’s eye, and the way Adam flinches when it clusters in his lashes. Something threatening, he’s sure, because the man immediately backs away, arms up. This is what happens when the muscle tries to do work without any brains: They’d bundled Adam up, sent their ransom note, and done absolutely nothing to prepare themselves for Nigel’s arrival. Nigel shoots the man in the knee, watching him buckle under the shot, and then steps aside to let Darko through the doorway.

“I want his hands,” He hisses to Darko, going straight for Adam, “I want his hands in a fucking gift box, and I want him to live through it. I want him to live until I have time to kill him myself.”

Behind him, Darko is nodding, but Nigel only has eyes for Adam.

Adam isn’t looking at him, but that is nothing new, especially when he’s overwhelmed. Instead, he’s staring at the floor, frantically trying to blink away the blood dripping in his eyes and shaking where he’s tied. Nigel has no doubt he’d be rocking if there was enough slack in his bonds to let him. He’s moaning, a muffled cadence that rocks up and down and no doubt has a littany of words that would just upset Nigel if he could hear them.

“Shh, baby,” Nigel whispers, slicing through the zip ties with his pocket knife. Across the room, Darko does something that makes the man scream, and Adam’s entire body jerks violently. “Shh, don’t look at him, look at me. You’re safe now.” He brings Adam’s wrists up to his mouth, kissing over a bleeding tear in the skin. Adam doesn’t look at him, keeps looking at the floor, breath coming in sharp little pants through his nose.

“That’s right,” Nigel reassures him, “You just keep breathing for me, baby, in and out. This is gonna hurt, I’ll try to make it fast for you. You yell if you have to yell.” He finds a give in the duct tape, pinches it tight, and yanks it off so quickly that Adam shrieks in outrage, too far gone to have heard the warning. Immediately, Adam starts tearing at his mouth, nails scraping little nicks against his skin until he successfully tears the sodden cloth from between his teeth and throws it as hard as he can manage. With his body shaking in quick, unsteady jerks, ‘as hard as he can manage’ turns out to be half a foot, before he wraps his arms around his chest and starts to rock.

“No, darling, not here, we can’t stay here.” Nigel tries to guide Adam to his feet and gets a smack across the face for his trouble. It’s not intentional- god knows Adam doesn’t have it in him to strike someone on purpose- but he doesn’t have room for his frantic motions, not with Nigel pressing in to every ounce of space he can.

“Go away!” Adam rasps, voice hoarse from his attempts at shouting, “Go away, don’t touch me, you’re hurting me!”

Nigel isn’t, of course, has barely even touched Adam, but he knows that everything must feel like sandpaper to his poor boy right now. If they were at home, he’d back off a foot or two, give Adam something soft to hit and shake and work with his hands. They have things hidden through the apartment, soft pillows on the sofa, packages of clay and stress balls hidden away in drawers, but Nigel can’t let him have a meltdown in a dirty warehouse with blood all over him. He needs his boy safe and bandaged at home, even if he has to push him past the limit to get him there.

“Not here, darling,” Nigel repeats, scooping Adam up into his arms. Adam flails, trying to get back to the ground and away from everything pressing against him, but Nigel just holds tighter, pressing Adam against his chest with every bit of strength he has. Hopefully, the pressure will soothe him like the weighted blanket they keep draped over the foot of the bed.

Adam shrieks at him, wordless and raging, but Nigel is used to his fits by now. He carries him out and tucks him into the car, closing the door and laying him flat across the back seat. He presses over Adam, pinning him down every place he can. He twines their fingers together and trams Adam’s hands against the leather, so that he can no longer flail and smack until his hands bleed. Adam’s legs jerk, but Nigel has pressed right in between them, like he would at home in their bed on a better night, and there is nowhere for Adam to get leverage and squirm away.

“Shh, gorgeous. You’re alright. You’re here with me, and we’re safe now.”

Dimly, he’s aware of the trunk slamming, Darko’s new favorite punching bag sealed safely inside. Darko knows better than to say a fucking thing about Adam or his eccentricities, so he is silent when he climbs into the drivers seat.

“Straight home for us,” Nigel tells Darko, and then turns his face back to Adam, who is slowly beginning to still beneath him, “You can take the trash with you after.”

\-----

At first, Nigel is too much. Too much heat and skin and pressure stabbing into Adam’s body, when his skin feels like it’s sliding off and he doesn’t want anything to touch him. Then Nigel spreads out over him, sealing him into place with all his weight. This is familiar, this is safe. This is how they lay on the sofa, when it’s been a long day at work and they just want to be close to each other. Or how Nigel collapses against him after sex, completely worn out and still filling him up, still inside Adam so intimately, so much closer than Adam thought anyone could ever be. This is the way Adam likes him, close and warm and heavy, keeping him safe. Adam’s senses return to him in slow, steady pulses, the beat of his heart in the cut on his skull (No one hurts Adam, including Adam), the burning in his wrists (Don’t leave the apartment alone), the line of hard metal between Nigel’s hip and Adam’s thigh (Don’t go out without your gun).

“You’re hurting me,” Adam whispers, when he trusts his mouth to form words that aren’t hurtful. His throat aches; he thinks he’s been screaming. “I have to go to the bathroom, and you are pressing on my bladder.”

Nigel’s body shifts against him, and then he’s laughing, pressing a trembling kiss underneath Adam’s jaw, a place Nigel likes to leave marks, and which now bears someone else’s purpling finger prints.

“There’s my angel. Welcome back to earth.”

“I didn’t leave,” Adam tells him with a frown, tugging at the grip on his wrists. Nigel releases him, but only long enough to straighten up and yank Adam into his lap. Adam lets himself be readjusted, too tired to remind Nigel about the importance of seat belts.

“We’ll be home soon,” Nigel whispers against Adam’s ear, nipping gently at the lobe. Adam shudders and stares blankly out the window, but doesn’t stop him. He’s too tired for sex, but he knows that physical contact is how Nigel soothes his own anxieties, and Adam won’t keep that from him. “You can run to the bathroom,” Nigel continues, “And then I’ll run you a nice, hot bath, and you’ll let me check you over and patch you up, won’t you baby? I wanna see any mark they’ve left on you.” He doesn’t say what he’s going to do with that information. He doesn’t have to. Adam knows.

“Yes, Nigel.” Adam relaxes in his arms, turning to press his face against Nigel’s collarbone. This is where Nigel sprays his cologne. It’s too much in the mornings, overwhelming Adam’s senses, but by now it’s faded, blending in with Nigel’s own natural scent. Evening Nigel always smells the best. “Am I in trouble?”

Nigel’s arms tighten around him. Beneath Adam, his body starts to shake with laughter.

“Oh darling. My sweet boy,” He says, pressing kisses to every bit of Adam he can reach. “You are in _so_ much trouble.”

**Author's Note:**

> Romanian notes: "Nu vorbesc limba română," is, of course, "I don't speak Romanian." "Găozar" is apparently one of _three_ Romanian insults that translates to 'faggot.' Like Adam, I don't speak Romanian, so any mistakes are the fault of Google.
> 
> This was written for #EatTheRare. It is probably the single least rare pairing I could have picked, since SpaceDogs has over 500 fics on AO3, but it's technically allowed. And I've been swearing up and down that I would never write SpaceDogs, so it's rare for _me_.
> 
> There's probably gonna be more of this, honestly. You're probably gonna get the entire story of how they got together and what exactly those rules are. Plus kinky sex. But for now, I have another WIP going I want to build up a bit first, and this stands alone nicely.
> 
> This was written very quickly, because I didn't find out about EatTheRare until it was already happening, so I'm not looking for critique right now, and please be understanding of any mistakes! I promise if I write the follow up story, I'll be able to take more time with it. Hopefully, this is still enjoyable for you.
> 
> Technically, by real-life standards, Adam and Nigel are in an abusive/unhealthy relationship. Don't date people who won't let you leave the house without them and make you follow rules (unless you have a safe word...). But this is fiction and we can enjoy whatever we want in fiction, and besides that, Adam's got Nigel wrapped around his fingers and also, obviously, chooses to ignore those rules whenever he damn well pleases. And Nigel deals with it because this is his boy and he loves him. I just feel like I should clarify that this is not acceptable real life behavior, so we all know I'm not condoning it and we can move on to gleefully enjoying our unhealthy shipping.


End file.
